


amongst the roses

by guardianoffun



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Episode: s06e01 Pylon, Established Relationship, M/M, Outdoor Sex, max debryn has a uniform kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:53:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21676714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardianoffun/pseuds/guardianoffun
Summary: Max shows one sliver of skin more than usual, and Morse goes absolutelyferal.
Relationships: Max DeBryn/Endeavour Morse
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	amongst the roses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iloveyoudie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveyoudie/gifts).

> for iloveyoudie bc this was entirely their idea i just pinched it and went a bit nuts. finished and uploaded after i fell asleep and woke up at 1am so idk if the endign is what i wanted but honestly who care... enjoy this content yall
> 
> also i do not claim to know a thing abt flowers so like... dont @ me

It was a catch up over lunch. They had done this sort of thing countless times, when life got hectic and work got stressful, they made time for themselves. Usually at Max’s though sometimes at the station house, on nights when Morse was stuck by the phone but wanted some other face in the darkness. It had been good in the winter, two bodies warming a bed, a hot meal shared and a blanket spread across both their knees. But it was spring now, heading ever so quickly into summer. As the afternoons became brighter and the days longer, they found themselves escaping the confines of their homes and enjoying the weather. 

This particular lunch hour found Morse in Max’s garden. One of his favourite spots to be, not that he’d said it out loud. He wasn’t one for gardening but this was Max’s place. He was everywhere; in the sound of the bees humming, in the smell of lavender or lilies, in the soft blues and deep reds of the flowers that burst from the soil. To watch as Max sat amongst his wildlife was something marvellous. 

Especially thought Morse, today. Today had started so rubbish, and he wanted to vent, so he had turned up and found Max quite busy in the kitchen - his second home away from the garden. Morse had let himself in, as he did most days now, and stepped softly through the house. He watched for a while as Max sliced at a cake, carefully lining up the knife. He waited for the knife to be safely embedded in the cake before rapping his knuckles against the doorframe. Max still looked surprised, but he turned around and gave Morse a fond smile. 

“Oh, afternoon Morse,” he said, eyes crinkling. “You’re just in time for tea.”

As they sat down across from one another on Max’s faded garden furniture, Morse noticed the way Max was dressed. Half in his work clothes, half-ready to start his afternoon. Shirtsleeves loose, still half rolled up from baking, and he was unhooking an apron from his neck. All innocuous enough, it was his tie that threw Morse. He had seen Max without one, of course, he’d seen him without much of anything quite a few times. The doctor wore one to work almost religiously too, no it was the fact he was only  _ half  _ wearing it that threw Morse. Undone, still slung around his neck and most terrible of all - his top button undone. Morse thought back to his brief stint as school master, and the times he’d snapped at young boys to do their shirt up all the way. Strangely enough, he didn’t have the same urge with Max. 

It threw Morse enough that he completely missed whatever smalltalk Max had made as he poured the tea. He hummed in response, Max used to his habitual lack of focus by now, and sipped at the tea. He tried to lift his eyes to Max’s lips as he spoke, to actually listen to what he appeared to be saying but Morse found himself quite unable to look away from the flash of skin that peered out from under his collar. It was just  _ there _ . That piece of Max so usually hidden, tucked away for only Morse to find when he peeled Max’s clothes layer by layer. Yet here Max was flaunting his neck, the base of his throat  _ the top of his chest  _ for any garden visitor to see. It was scandalous, it was criminal and it was doing terrible things to Morse’s concentration. 

He was supposed to be asking about something, the case Box had muscled him off of, but honestly any thought of work had well and truly vanished. It was just Max, and the garden, and the soft sunlight that picked out the silver in his hair. It was the open collar and the bob of his throat when he took a drink, the line of his jaw. 

He said something about his roses and flashed Morse a wry smile and that was the point at which Morse utterly lost it. He jerked forward, then realised he had no clue what his next move was, but his hand was already outstretched for - something? Max raised an eyebrow.

“Morse? Are you quite alright?” Both of them stared at Morse’s hand, now hovering between the two of them. Morse pursed his lips, and nodded slowly. He inched the chair forward, scraping it along the tiles till he could just reach for Max. His fingers curled around one end of the tie that lay across his shoulders. He lifted it, ever so slightly so that Max’s eyes were drawn down to the fabric between his fingers. He said nothing, but moved to stand, and thankfully Max did too. Morse tugged on the tie, watched it fall gently from his neck. He held it up, accusingly. 

“You don’t often walk around so undressed,” he said, voice lower than he meant. Max’s smiles at him again, an all knowing sort of look. “What’s the occasion?”

“Well you see, I’m having this young man over-” Morse smirks, making a show of winding the bow around his hand. 

“Oh really?” Max nods, then reaches up to pull at the lapel of Morse’s uniform jacket. 

“Yes, really. A nice policeman,” he brushed a hand across one of Morse’s shoulders, fingers playing with the epaulettes. “Looks very good in uniform I must say,” he trailed off, as laughter threatened to spill from his lips. As it was, his eyes were twinkling, and that was the last straw for Morse. He tilted his head, shoved the tie in his back pocket and reached for Max’s chin. The doctor let himself be pulled forward by his shirt, then slid his arms around Morse’s waist as they kissed. 

Max tasted like the sweet tea they’d been drinking, his body warm from the sun and smell of baking clings to him. Morse is so lost in it all for a moment, he doesn’t realise they’ve swayed until his thigh bumped the table. It wobbles for a second, and the cake stand veers dangerously. It might have survived, had Max not chose that moment to pinch his backside, making Morse stumble again. With a clatter it fell to the floor, the leaves of the rosebush stopping it from shattering completely. 

Morse broke the kiss for a second to look back, and he blushed. 

“Sorry ‘bout the cake,” he mumbled, but Max was already shaking his head. 

“I’ll bake another,” he said, unhooking Morse’s tie from his coat and tugging on it. Morse laughed as Max pressed another kiss to his lips, more desperate now. 

“Is that a promise?” 

* * *

“Morse?” Max said, when Morse next came up for air.

“Mmm?” came the reply, a thoroughly distracted sound. Max swatted at the hands that were groping him through his trousers. 

“Not that I’m not enjoying this,” he bit his lip as Morse leant forward again and pressed a kiss at the opening of his collar. “But -  _ oh  _ \- we’re rather close to the roses, dear.” Morse shrugged. 

“Smell nice,” he murmured against Max’s neck, breath warm on his skin. Max fought the urge to sigh, because this was typical Morse, but really, he was not about to sacrifice his tea-roses for this, he had standards. Not to mention there was now a slowly crumbling cake sitting amongst them already. He let Morse grab at him one more time before looping his hand around Morse’s wrist and pulling him up. The man had the cheek to pout. Max gave him a quick peck. 

“Yes, I love you too, but not enough to let you fumble in my flowers,” he reached down and gave Morse’s ass a slap, before leading him by the hand further up the garden. It curved around the back of the house, to a small space he’d been slowly perfecting. Amongst the raised beds and the climbing ivy that made its way lazily along the fence, he had tucked a bench. Some antique find, all wrought iron and hardwood, nestled amongst peonies and violet cranesbill. It made for the perfect, secluded little spot. 

Morse stumbled along behind him, taking far too much advantage of the position to press up behind him. Max got him to the bench, and pushed him onto it before finding himself pulled down suddenly onto Morse’s lap. Safe from crushing any poor blooms, he let Morse go wild. It was quite wonderful, when Morse was like this. It seemed the smallest thing sometimes would get him ticking sometimes, something so unassuming, though Max had to admit, he might have played the game a little this time. He knew Morse’s fascination with his neck, perhaps because he was all too often too bundled up in lab coats and bowties to show it. So yes, perhaps he had slid it undone on purpose when he heard Morse come in, but if he did insist on looking quite that lovely in uniform…

Speaking of which, Morse was wearing far too much of it. Whilst Morse’s tongue was still making a thorough inspection of his, he ran a hand up Morse’s chest, unbuttoning as he went. He pushed back the thick jacket to get his hands on the smooth cotton shirt beneath. Morse shrugged it off, only parting from Max long enough to whip it off and throw it across the grass. It was not quite warm enough yet to strip Morse down completely, and given the nature of their location, perhaps not the smartest idea. 

Morse though, was a man on a mission, apparently undeterred by nature, and seemed content to unzip Max’s trousers and get right to it. 

“Christ, Morse,” he cried softly against auburn hair. His hands were cool against his dick, and they were positively wicked in their movements. Max found himself grinding against his tough, desperate for  _ more _ . 

It should have felt incredibly wrong he thought to himself - as Morse sucked hard enough at his throat to leave a mark - to be doing this outside. There was nothing but clear skies above them, and there were birds flitting about the gutters, yet here they were, getting incredibly intimate amongst it all. Not that Max was complaining, Morse’s hands were working magic, but it should have felt just a little bit wrong at least. 

Instead, he pressed closer to Morse, wanting more pressure, more hands on him. Morse was torturous when he wanted to be, rushing to bring him to the edge and then distracting him with a teeth at his neck, or lips around his fingers, leaving Max quite flustered. 

Morse loved seeing Max like this. With a blush high on his cheeks, his lip caught between his teeth as he held back cries, the feel of him hot and hard under his hand. He loved knowing that he had taken the cool and unflappable Dr. DeBryn and turned him into a helpless mess of Max-ness. Eloquence flew out the window when Morse had him at his mercy; Max became a jumble of cut-off curses and moaning, every now and then whining ‘ _ Morse’  _ against his ear in a way that sent the most delicious warmth flooding through Morse.

Like now, how Max shivered at his touch, jerked against his hand, all against a backdrop of flowers and greenery. It was all so  _ Max  _ so very much his element. The sight alone was enough to have Morse straining against his freshly pressed trousers, Max’s sweet words in his ear not helping. He grabbed at Morse’s chest, his neck, anywhere and pulled him close. He bit at his lips, at his ear, rained kisses on him like a thunderstorm. Morse returned each move with his own, drawing it out long and slow. 

At some point in amongst it all, Max’s glasses were lost to the flowers, and Morse was left staring into those eyes, wide and wild as Max spilled out into his hand. He collapsed with a cry, across Morse, the pair of them winding up entangled on the bench. For a moment the world was nothing except the feel of each other, of slow breaths and long, warm half-smiles. 

**Author's Note:**

> when will maxdebryn hold me in his garden


End file.
